


Harvest

by saltypeanuts



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, harvest, opeth, sino-soviet relations, sino-soviet split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltypeanuts/pseuds/saltypeanuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could be now, or centuries from now. No one would be there to help us, but ourselves. The power lies in our very hands, my Bolshevik, as long as you never leave me be. Rochu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harvest

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Opeth's song, "Harvest," autumn chill, warm colours, and Sino-Soviet relations leading up the split.

After many wearisome days on the train, Russia finally arrived at his destination. He hadn't the spirit of a wayfarer, nor the patience for that matter, and hoped he could have gotten there in less time. Sitting hunchbacked in his cramped, prison-like train compartment made him feel a little insecure about his weight, and the loud chattering noises around him had left him with a migraine.

Russia had been looking forward to his destination, and if it wasn't for that, he would have gladly taken on a more interesting task for the week.

After driving for hours on a country road and burning time with his last pack of cigarettes, Russia finally parked beside a particularly long stretch of farmland. It was harvest season, and it was evident that the kind of hard labour to which the village folk had been subjected, didn't lose to his own Siberians back home.

The setting sun hung over a thin dome of smoky clouds, the waning light donned the wheat field an even more vivid golden hue.

Heavy, thudding leather boots crushed the dead twigs underneath, as Russia traversed deeper into the unfenced property. The air was cold enough to have made the plants' spines shiver, but for some reason, he still felt humid and heavy in his uniform.

It had been a while since Russia last saw the sun. For the past few years, he had spent most of his days working inside, shoveling this, hauling that. Compared to the industrial hell of his own home, he liked where he was right now. So peaceful and...  _silent_ — a much better cure for his migraine than swallowing pills.

Maybe he should convince his boss to revoke the initial plan of stripping down China's backyard and remodelling it after his own. But, the man was stubborn, and stuck to his principles like black tar to lungs.

So, he supposed he should enjoy this haven before it faded away, and treasure China's friendship while it lasted.

It took a few decisive minutes for Russia to locate him, and slipped his binoculars back into his coat pocket afterwards. China was lying on the ground a few hundred feet away from where he stood, probably taking a nap. He walked up to him, minding to not step over too many of his crops.

Russia knelt down, and craned his head to look smaller man curiously. China was curled up in a ball, still asleep, and snoring a little.

His chest was bare and littered with wounds. Some were fresh, and the pink flesh was still gleaming, as if the skin had just got cracked open yesterday. Others had scabbed or were already scars. Russia, having been the only third-party witness, could still lucidly recall the moment when China got that first one across his back, many, many years ago.

When they were together, they made a silent treaty to never talk about the past. There was always so much work to be done, and there was no time to dwell upon such listless matters.

Even now, Russia knew he shouldn't be wasting time just watching China sleep. Though, he was jealous that amidst all the chaos and mayhem, the man could still sleep so soundly, free from any nightmares.

Russia knew his boss had dispatched him here on a particularly tedious errand, which needed to be done sooner or later, even if all he wanted was some quality time with his friend.

But if he sincerely wished to establish diplomacy with his southern neighbour, his boss should make a personal trip, and not rely on a middle man to do the job, right?

So, that was the excuse Russia chose to adhere to, so he wouldn't have to get his assignment done.

Happy with his decision and completely guilt-free, he began looming closer until he was directly over top of China. His tower-like silhouette casted upon the other's petite form.

Russia shook China shoulders as gently as he could, without breaking a bone of his. "Wake up Yao, he crooned, "I'm here now."

Though the snoring had stopped, China still refused to open his eyes. The iron sickle he held slipped from his grasp, exposing the inside of his palm, which was red with blisters.

Russia's lips parted in mild shock at the sight, and his heart itched a little. Before realizing what he was doing, Russia gingerly cupped the hand between his own gloved ones and brought it close to his cheek, hoping to warm up the fingers that had blued at the tips.

The brevity of this tender moment was aching. China, upon realization, quickly pulled his hand away, as a loud, frightful "Ahh!" echoed across the expanse. China shot up from where he lay, and stopped only inches from smashing his forehead against Russia's. The larger man stumbled back, his bottom hitting the cold, damp soil.

For a few minutes, neither parties said anything to the other. China was waiting for Russia to justify why he was holding his hand, while Russia was having trouble justifying his own strange ways.

"Um, sorry, I'll put some clothes on." China finally whispered, trying to gather up what was left of his dignity.

Russia shook his head. "You don't have to, Yao. You look nice."

"... I do?"

"Everyone will look just like you at the end of the day, and there's nothing wrong with that." Russia said, stopping himself from cupping his face, "It's beautiful."

"Oh, I see." China muttered flatly as he looked away, unsure if this was an appropriate discussion between two men.

They still acted like strangers to each other sometimes, despite that they had known each other for hundreds of years. The silence between them never bothered Russia, because he knew there was no one else in the world he felt more comfortable around.

With that thought, he gave a loud, contented sigh, and allowed his back to fall with a thud. He gestured China to join him, which he did, wordlessly. China laid down beside him a few feet away, reminding himself to keep an acceptable distance.

The stars were peeking out now. But sadly, because the firmament had yet to darken, they couldn't shine as brightly. The nighttide was taking its sweet time, and the only thing they could now do was wait.

China, whose bones felt stiff and lethargic from the autumn chill, nudged closer against Russia for warmth, and nothing more. He hoped such a simple action wouldn't disrupt the other's stargazing.

Though China would never tell him this, he had been watching the stars as reflected by Russia's eyes this whole time. He was no artist, but the pale lavender canvas was much nicer to look at than just the plain blue. Before he knew it, many hours had passed, and now, nothing could be heard for miles except for the rustling breeze.

"Where are we going?" China found himself asking no one in particular, his gaze still transfixed.

"Home," came Russia's deep, rumbling voice.

"Where is 'home'?"

Russia chuckled, blowing visible puffs of breath into the frosty night air. China blinked in concern.

"Oh, not to worry," Russia replied cheerfully, turning to smile at his friend, "You're already home, Yao. It's me who needs to get there, and I will, even if it kills me, yes?"

_Yes._

Russia was going home. He would find himself again, and hopefully when he did, China would be there too...

"But you're too ambitious, Ivan. Instead of finding yourself, you'll only lose it instead."

…

The cicadas began to sing.

"I promise you I wouldn't," was his brief, but slow, clear, and definite answer. Russia said it like a tome casted to the ground, like chisel against stone, as if he could taste his own words.

"I'll hold you to that," China muttered back, shrugging coolly. He took a crumpled cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it. But, he couldn't bring himself to smoke.

Russia frowned and said nothing. Disappointed by China's previous comment, he grumbled and turned his back to him, away from the sickening scent of tobacco.

Having noted his partner's change in mood, China immediately pinched his cigarette and tossed it aside, but rolled away from him as well.

It took a few more hours for the pair to want to face each other again. Each was waiting for the other apologize, and would rather stare at each other blankly. It was now midnight, with the moon was dangling ominously from the heavens, watching the rest of the world like an eye.

"You know Yao, you can go wherever you want," Russia said finally, his voice had become as blank as the expression on his face, "I won't stop you, just as long as you don't stray away from my sight. Understand?"

China opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his own. At first, all he could muster was a single helpless gasp. He growled and tried to shove Russia off him, but eventually gave in. It wasn't because China was enjoying his first forced kiss, but because he knew very well, at that moment, that Russia was the ruler of the world.

Gloved hands were running down his chest, and the feeling of slick leather against his skin made him shiver. China was locked betwixt his arms, which felt heavier, denser,  _colder_ , than bars of steel. He could hardly breathe, let alone squirm.

When they eventually broke apart, China took no time in turning away from him again, hoping, praying that the man next to him would somehow just magically disappear into a cloud of dust, if he couldn't acquire enough strength to retaliate.

Russia said nothing, but when China heard his dark, berating laugh and the rustling of fabric as the man slipped off his trench coat, he could only squeeze his eyes shut.

Instead of tossing it to the ground, Russia gingerly draped the coat over the other's bare shoulders. "Winter's coming, and you'll be cold, friend." He said, patting China's head endearingly. Though, China could still hear the vile in his voice.

It was awfully heavy, and in comparison, China felt small. But, he cuddled with the it like a blanket, and breathed in the scent of hard liquor, Russia's scent.

"It's alright, Ivan, I'm willing to suffer a little." he said, his tone gentle, his words cutting.

Immediately, he felt a hand clasp around his ponytail, as his neck was jerked back at an unnatural, almost painful angle. China bit his tongue until it bled.

" _Fool, you think you're tiny little self are able to withstand my winters?_ " Russia hissed into his ear, making his eardrums rattle, " _You have nothing left anymore_ — _Nothing, but that stubborn head of yours, Yao, don't you understand?_ "

"I have patience."

"What could you possibly be waiting for?" He spat.

"For you to be martyred for your own madness, Ivan." He spat back, and the beast was silenced, instantaneously.

China laughed at his own words, and gently peeled Russia's limp arms off his waist. He turned to face his sunken features, with a proud sliver of a grin.

"Then, I'll come back to you on my own free will, just to watch your demise. That way, you wouldn't have to stalk my shadow anymore,  _love_." China whispered, bitterness looming beneath his voice like soft embers.

China leaned over and granted Russia a flutter of a kiss, relishing in his ephemeral victory. In his head, he was counting the seconds past before Russia was going to react. After eight, Russia gave a dry, grating growl, and unleashed himself at the other man.

His grip was a little too vice, his nails a little too sharp to be intimate. China only had a fistful of silvery hair to clutch onto, as Russia assaulted him with teeth, claws, and only if he felt merciful, lips.

Though, even if a master was angry at his pet, he still wouldn't go as far as kill it, or starve it to death for that matter. Of course, China understood, and could only giggle at that fact. Hold onto his tormentor for dear life as he was being ravished, and giggle.

"Don't you think it's about time I reaped in my harvest too, friend?" Russia murmured, nuzzling against the crook of his neck, "It won't hurt too much, I promise. Maybe you'll like it even."

As crazy as it was, he trusted Russia more than any other. China sighed and nodded in response.

The snow came early this year. But, he could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah.
> 
> Just as a warning though, the real lyrics to the song have the complete opposite idea to this story. Think of the actual lyrics as the unwritten epilogue to this piece? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed my one-shot, and please review!


End file.
